Origins of The Joker
by proseccopapi
Summary: A Joker origin story. The characters and place in this story are all from the various Batman comics created by Bob Kane for DC comics and I do not claim ownership.
1. Chapter 1: The Talk

**1\. THE TALK**

The city was evacuated three hours ago; the police and press helicopters flew around the city looking to help The Batman, or give their station a good live feed to broadcast of another battle between The Joker and Batman.

One of the helicopters made a nasty turn that almost sent it through a building and the other helicopters followed it down to Crime Alley. The reason the man took such a big risk is because he saw a flash of green running and the only direction he could be going in was Crime Alley.

The man with the green hair was running to Crime Alley for a reason. The Batman had stopped him, it took him a while but he got there, and now he was leading him to where it all began. The Bat did not know where that was, he had a plethora of ideas about where it started but today he was going to see. Today The Joker was going to break The Batman for good. Today Gotham would lose its symbol. Today would be a new day.

The helicopters surrounded The Joker and the spotlight was on him. Noise came in from all around: the police telling him to stop, the journalist shouting questions over the sound of the helicopters and The Batman fast approaching. The green haired man savoured the moment and said nothing.

The batmobile was five minutes out and Batman knew The Joker wanted him to go to Crime Alley but he did not know why. He went anyway, if it were some kind of trap, at least he would be even more on his guard, that's better than walking in blind.

"Penny-One, he's not doing anything," Batman said.

"It appears not, sir." Alfred replied.

"What is he doing? He's acting like he's already won, like he planned every move I made. What's his endgame?" He wasn't sure if he expected an answer.

The Batman got out of the batmobile and went straight for The Joker but he saw it coming and ran into a nearby building. He ran up the stairs to the third floor and ran down the hallway to apartment 3C. The building was abandoned and the walls were dark and the smelled of mold. The Joker stood in the middle of the room and waited for The Bat to burst in, which he did.

Batman was not quick to fight him this time around, he still didn't know what The Joker wanted and what _he_ wanted was to find out what The Joker had planned.

"What are you up to Joker?" Batman tried to be direct.

"I'll tell you Batsss," he started.

The Joker turned around, walked to the window, and looked at a theatre across the street. The theatre was being renovated and turned into a cinema. When Bruce was younger and Crime Alley was called Park Row, the theatre was home to some of the greatest shows, especially operas. Bruce was aware of it, as he always is when he's around it; he had, however, assumed that his encounter with the Joker would have nothing to do with it. So why was he looking at it? Why did Joker care about it? Why was it significant? Did Joker know?

The shock on Batman's face was evident even with the cowl hiding most of it.

"Please have a seat, turn off your mobile phones and enjoy this evenings entertainment: The Clown Prince of Crime – it's based on a true story you know." The Joker started to laugh, the sound cut through the room and some officers claimed to have heard it over the helicopters, the police in Gotham were terrified of The Joker and pretending not to be was a means of coping.

"What is this about?" The Bat tried again.

"Like most stories, this one is a tragic one; one of loss. My dear Bat, it all started when I was a boy living in Gotham, not really Gotham but close enough to say I grew up here _._ It was an uncharacteristically pleasant day in the city andI had just skipped school to roam around the city and was found by a policeman who took me to the station and called my parents. I sat there, in the belly of the beast, and I waited for them. We were meant to see a show that night and we did. They weren't too upset about me skipping school, in case you were wondering, it was my first time you know?" he paused to walk from one end of the room to another. There was smile on his face that went beyond his usual scary expression, there was more there, satisfaction?

(end of chapter one)


	2. Chapter 2

2\. Death of the Wayne's

Wayne Manor felt different, the young master of the household felt as though he had travelled to an alternate version of his home. The home he was used to be full of happiness and love, he so vividly remembers playing with his friends, Alfred, and his parents but he remembers it like it happened long ago. There was a disconnect, he knew everything was as it always had been but it just felt strange, like someone had broken into his home and moved half of the things an inch to the left, nothing felt right. Bruce finally understood what people meant when they spoke incredulously about the size of the house, he felt like an ant in a labyrinth, trapped and small.

Bruce chose to walk around the Manor and it's grounds but he was to plagued by sadness because everything in his home had some significance; this is where he chipped his tooth, that was where he fell and had to be rescued by his father, this is where he would read if he was bored, it was all so surreal because he knew he couldn't create new memories with his family.

The house felt haunted and not by the ghosts of his parents but the ghosts of what lived in the house before him. He could _feel_ the death of his family, the death of his happiness, the death of a future with so much potential, the death of all the good deeds his parents wanted to do.

"Master Bruce?" Alfred called "Will you be taking lunch?" he asked.

The boy shook his head and walked away. Alfred had been worried about the youngest Wayne since it happened, there was such a drastic shift in how he behaved but Alfred could not fault him for it because how was the boy meant to react after what he saw. Alfred wrapped the food up and put it away, _when he's ready he will come_ he thought to himself, he was talking about the food but deep down he meant that he'd come around and finally.

After weeks of sulking and practically starving himself, Alfred became fed up with Bruce and called in Dr. Thompkins, who said she had a history in psychology. When she arrived at the house Bruce remained the same but slowly got better, he began to eat and come out of his room more. Dr. Thompkins explained to Alfred that it was not being in his room that he enjoyed it was being away from the rest of the house.

"He says he feels haunted when he walks around, says that sometimes it affects him so badly he can't breathe" Dr. Thompkins informed Alfred.

Dr. Thompkins was very willing to stay in the house with Alfred and Bruce, she was happy to even. She had, however, noticed a few…problems. Due to the traumatic nature of the events that Bruce had witnessed she assumed he had PTSD and was not able to diagnose anything else exactly because her background in psychology was a minor in university and a few books on the topic that she collected over the years. Dr. Thompkins said that she could stay as long as she was needed but urged Alfred to take Bruce to an actual specialist and to remember that she had a job and found it strenuous, but bearable, to commute into Gotham City.

Dr. Thompkins was however urged to leave the home of her late friends when Bruce started sharing his more…morbid thoughts with her. She would think about them all day and at night these nasty images plagues her dreams, twisting them into nightmares that forced her awake, sweating and with a racing heart.

 _The dream goes like this,_ the voice echoed through Dr. Thompkins head. _The house is as it always is: big. I am walking around but as I pass objects, they fade away or get covered in dust. I hear voices, familiar voices but they sound far away and so I chase them, I_ know _it is them, I know they're looking for me but when I find them they are just carcasses laying on the ground with grey skin covered in bruises with full bellies that look about ready to burst. They do, they always do and bats fly out of my father, or the body that resembles my father. They fly past me scratch, clawing, biting. When they pass, I stand there, bloody, looking at my mother waiting for the horrors that live inside of her to burst free. I hear them. It sounds like wings beating against each other and her skin, fighting…fighting to get free. Then I wake up, scared and unaware of what horrors await me in my daily life._

The next morning Dr. Thompkins went home, she still had nightmares for weeks but she felt better waking up in her bed and in her home. On the way home she dropped Bruce off at the office of one of her oldest friends who was very willing to help the young boy. She even chose to do it pro bono because of how much she admired the Thomas and Martha Wayne.

Something about the fact that this doctor was working for free made Bruce angry, he didn't understand why, actually he did it was because she pitied him, he was just some charity case, she thought that if she didn't charge the orphan then she'd done something good, she'd helped him in such a large way, he knew that at her next party or whatever she'd talk about it. 'Oh you know that poor little Wayne boy' she'd say 'he came to _me_ for therapy' she'd gloat 'the poor thing just can't cope' she'd view herself as some kind of angel there to help the poor wayward boy. He hated her, he could not even remember her name but he hated her. He hated her even more when she suggested that he be sent to school because he _needed to be around people his own age,_ he needed to _put himself back out there, in the 'normal' world._ He hated the word normal because normal is relative, what's normal to her might be alien to him, but none of that mattered because Alfred practically skipped all the way to school to enroll him.


End file.
